THE DETECTIVE

7

“That’s not necessary,” Vanessa said, steeling herself. “I’ve already done all that. The funeral will be at Blackenstock Funeral Home. The arrangements are made. I’ll get you the details once they’re printed up.”

The older woman’s perfectly made-up eyes narrowed. “I wish you had waited for me. I really wanted to approve the casket.”

Battling the urge to offer to take her to the funeral home in the morning so she could approve of her choice, Vanessa managed to keep her mouth closed.

When Vanessa didn’t respond, Lois glared at her. Vanessa hated that she was alone with them. She felt like she desperately needed an ally. Someone whose presence would give her strength because she knew if she wasn’t strong, her in-laws would roll over her like a steamroller on freshly laid concrete. Even Christopher had been unable to hold his own around his parents.

Abruptly, Lois pushed herself up and walked over to the sink, where she stood staring out the window. Her shoulders began shaking as she silently cried.

In empathy, Vanessa's own eyes filled again. No matter how overbearing the older woman might be, she’d adored her only son. When Steven made no move to comfort his wife, Vanessa went to her and wrapped her arms around her. She wasn’t sure what to say, so she said nothing.

After a moment, the older woman angrily shoved Vanessa away. “Tell me, did he suffer?”

“No. They said he was killed instantly.” Vanessa swiped at her streaming eyes, relieved to be crying. She understood the need to lash out when in pain.

“I want to know who you spoke to with the police,” Steven said. “I need to talk to him. I want my son’s killer caught as quickly as possible.”

“So do I. I won’t even feel safe until he’s caught.” Vanessa replied. 

"Indeed," said Lois sarcastically as she rolled her eyes. 

Vanessa ignored that too. As it was, all she wanted to do was crawl into her bed and try to sleep. The doorbell rang and Vanessa went to see who it was. When she opened the door and saw Anita, she threw her arms around her and began to cry again. The tears were of both joy and sadness. She was happy that she had someone with her, especially now as Christopher's parents were around, but she was also upset about Christopher's death. She'd never wished for him to die. 

"I'm so glad you're here," Vanessa told Anita once she put herself together again, "Christopher's parents are here and I feel so ganged up on. You know they don't really like me," 

"It's alright. I'm here for you now," Anita replied softly as they headed towards the kitchen. Vanessa introduced Anita to them, but they seemed not to care and barely showed any interest. 

“Do you have anything to feed us?” Lois demanded, using the paper towel to blot the black mascara stains under her eyes. “We’ve driven a long way. I would have thought your church friends would have brought casseroles and such.”

Church friends. Vanessa wasn't a religious person. She knew now wasn’t the time to point out that Christopher had rarely attended church unless it had been for a photo op.

“I can make you a sandwich or something,” she offered instead.

The older woman stared at her as if she’d suggested eating raw meat. “Never mind. I’ll just send Steven for something.”

Vanessa nodded, the movement sending shards of pain through her head. “I’ll make up the guest bedroom for you.” Part of her hoped Lois would decline and state that she and Steven would stay in a hotel. No such luck.

“Don’t you have a housekeeper to do that?” Steven asked, looking around curiously. 

Vanessa replied that she didn't. She guessed until she stopped being an eternal optimist, she’d be doomed to disappointment where these people were concerned. Forcing herself to move, she headed back upstairs, first to the linen closet and then to the largest guest bedroom, the one on the opposite side of the house from her room. Anita would occupy the smaller one next to the master bedroom. The big room she planned on giving her in-laws.

Anita stayed right behind her. When she pulled back the comforter on the queen-size bed, she grabbed the other part of the fitted sheet. “Let me help,” she said quietly. “It’ll get done faster and maybe you can go lie down.”

Hurting too badly to argue, she shot her a thankful look. They made quick work of making up the bed. 

“Thank you,” she told her. “How rude would it be if I left them on their own and went to bed?”

“You’re in mourning too,” Anita said, her voice gruff. “No one in their right mind would expect a grieving widow to play hostess. If you’d like, I’d be happy to tell them that you’ve gone to bed and are done for the night.”

To her shock, she actually considered taking her up on her offer. "I kinda have a few things to sort out," 

“Would you like me to entertain them while you do that?” asked Anita. “Just let me know what I can do to help.”

“I’d like that,” she said softly. “Take care of them for me. I don’t have the energy to deal with them any more tonight.” 

—----------

Though she had no earthly idea what she could talk to them about, Anita dutifully trudged back downstairs. 

Christopher's parents were discussing Vanessa, making no effort to lower their voices.

“I’m telling you, she’s glad he’s dead,” Lois Wesley declared. “I knew she never loved our son.” With that, she began loudly weeping, repeating over and over that she couldn’t believe he was gone.

When Anita walked into the room, instead of finding Steven comforting his wife, he realized the older man had walked over to the front window and stood staring outside, his back to the room. Still crying, Lois didn’t look up when Anita entered the room.

“Excuse me.” Anita cleared her throat. “Vanessa is busy with some things at the moment. Is there anything I can help you with before you retire for the night?”

Wiping at her streaming eyes, Lois glared at her. Her husband remained at the window, not even bothering to turn around.

“We’ll pass,” Steven replied. “We don't need anything from her.”